


Lovely Music

by lingering_l0v3z



Series: There's plots on the ceiling [3]
Category: The Queen's Gambit (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Rock Band, F/M, Fluff and Smut, One Shot, Over the Years
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-22
Updated: 2021-01-22
Packaged: 2021-03-13 19:07:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,217
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28908324
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lingering_l0v3z/pseuds/lingering_l0v3z
Summary: He is a lanky man with slight muscle definition and facial hair that should make him look outdated, but there is something about his voice and passion that makes it impossible for her to look away.So, she doesn’t. Not even when his eyes lock onto hers. He gives her a cheeky wink that she should find antagonistic and a smirk that should have made her want to barf at his arrogance. But still, she doesn’t look away from Benny.
Relationships: Beth Harmon/Benny Watts
Series: There's plots on the ceiling [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2097519
Comments: 26
Kudos: 108





	Lovely Music

**Author's Note:**

> Had a bit of a throwback listening to alternative rock bands and could not stop myself from writing this. :D

Beth sees him for the first time from the front row of his band’s concert and is instantaneously mesmerized by him. 

Shirtless and clad in only a pair of low-slung black jeans. It leaves her wanting to find out where the V starting from his hips leads to. Pale chest with minimum definition seemingly glistens due to the perspiration peppering his skin. Toned arms that taper into lithe fingers decorated with numerous rings grasps onto the microphone like a vise. 

Thin neck supporting metallic necklaces of various lengths. They drape across his bare skin, taunting her. Facial hair with a trim mustache embellishes his tilted lips each time he smiles at the screaming fans. Piercing brown eyes. And the hair. Dirty blonde locks finish his tousled look as he rakes his hands through them with every second verse. 

He is a lanky man with slight muscle definition and facial hair that should make him look outdated, but there is something about his voice and passion that makes it impossible for her to look away. 

So, she doesn’t. Not even when his eyes lock onto hers. He gives her a cheeky wink that she should find antagonistic and a smirk that should have made her want to barf at his arrogance. But still, she doesn’t look away from Benny.

~

She personally meets him backstage that night through their mutual friend Cleo. The same friend that had dragged her from her piano practice to what she calls the hottest alternative rock band to hit New York. 

“Two of the boys in the band gave me passes,” she remembers the model saying earlier that day. Beth doesn’t ask how she became acquainted with both the guitarist and drummer. “You’re coming with me.”

Beth admits to herself that she had heard of them before, the Fallen Kings. It is impossible to not run into a paper with the lead singer's face plastered on the cover, but she never paid them any mind. 

The backstage is packed leaving little standing room. Beth opts to stand by the catering table and pick at the sweets as Cleo stands beside her craning her neck like a bird in search of the band members. 

Beth takes more interest in the food. The music was great, inspiring actually. Yet, she still held little hope in seeing the men behind the music as soon as they stepped off the stage. Cleo might be a model, but no doubt these musicians were used to fans tossing themselves at them.

To prove her point, shrieks emanate from a gaggling group standing at the opposite side of the room. Beth turns around while chewing on a cream puff in time to see girls clad in band paraphernalia holding out albums, paper pads and even their bare skin to be signed. 

Perhaps, it is possible to see the band up close. She spots Benny Watts leading the four other members as they emerge from the dressing rooms. 

Or perhaps it’s not, she surmises as the groupies engulf them. 

“It is always impossible to be near these famous people,” Cleo says in her French accent. 

Beth resists the urge to roll her eyes and instead nudges her friend with her shoulder. “Like your one to talk.”

“The hypocrisy,” Cleo balks. “Your groupies are just as insufferable at times, Miss Piano Virtuoso.” 

Shrugging, Beth doesn’t bother to point out that her fans are of a higher quality than the ones who are currently flashing these poor men. 

They wait for nearly twenty minutes before the crowd disperses, or more like shuffle out when their bought time is up. By this time, Beth is already sipping at the beer provided to her by one of the crew. 

She is surprised that they are also not pushed out the door along with the group. Just how well does Cleo know these boys?

Her question is answered seconds later when the members she knew to be Wexler and Levertov approach the table. Cleo smashes her lips on one of their mouths then moves on to the next without so much as a greeting. 

Beth stands there and takes another sip of her beer as she eyes her friend’s very public display. Two other members stare at the trio with her as a conspiratorial smile spreads on their faces. They look very similar to each other and she knows them to be the twin heartthrobs, Matt and Mike. They give her a wave when they find her looking and she reciprocates the greeting. 

“She always said the two guys were better than just one of them.” Beth hears this uttered in a deep drawl from behind her. 

She doesn’t have to turn around to know who it is. She was never a fan and still isn’t categorizing herself as one, but his voice is too distinct for her not to know. 

With her signature unreadable face, she turns to see him leaning against the table a bottle of water clutched in his hand. He has a shirt on now. She noticed it when he first exited the dressing room, but just now allowed herself to feel the attraction that still coursed through her even when his skin was covered by the black shirt. 

“You're Cleo’s friend, Harmon,” he says as he moves closer to her. “I’m Benny Watts.”

“I know.” His eyes wander up her figure taking in her skin-tight cream dress reaching several inches over her knees and matching heels. It isn’t an ensemble that screams rockstar bait, but by the way his fingers tap the table in thought, she knew it affects him more than the short skirts and crop tops that the others wore. 

She relishes that thought.

~

It doesn’t take them long to fall into bed after that. 

Beth tells herself that it was the alcohol coupled with the copious amounts of harmless flirting, but she knows that it takes more than three beers and a couple of shots for her to unknowingly make a bad decision.

After Cleo ditches her for her lovers, Benny makes it his task to keep her company at the after-party regardless of how many times she brushes him off. It doesn’t surprise her that when a woman doesn’t trip over themselves to impress him, he finally shows some interest in something other than his reflection. 

She again tells herself that making an otherwise arrogant, music absorbed man show interest in her is what makes her so hot and bothered over him. 

They topple into a spare bedroom in Wexler’s home currently housing the crowd they invited for the party. She doesn’t know how they got to the room. All she knows is the hard wood against her back as Benny traps her against the door.

His lips are on hers and she can’t even tell if it was their first kiss that night or not. She kisses him back with a fervor, tasting the numerous concoctions that he consumed that night as his tongue invades her mouth. 

The black shirt is tossed over his shoulder and her dress is pulled down to expose her to the chill of the room. Hands cover her breast as if to protect her from the cold and set fire to her skin. 

Her nails entangle in his necklaces then rake across his back. At that moment, a brief thought enters her mind questioning why a rockstar has so much tattoo free real estate. It is wiped from her mind by his wandering hands.

They have frenzied sex against the door. Multiple articles of clothing remain on their bodies as if they were so desperate to be together that they couldn’t be bothered. 

They only seem to use the bed for rest between bouts and for sleep that night. Books and decorations litter the floor from when Benny cleared the dresser so he could ravish her as she sat on it. Palm prints can be seen on the bathroom mirror from when she bent over the counter as he took her from behind. 

The next day when she wakes in his arms, Beth blatantly ignores the pang of regret in her chest and the ache between her thighs as she quietly slips out of his hold. She gathers her discarded dress and shoes making her way out of the room without leaving so much as a number. 

~

Cleo tries to bring up that particular night several times. Each time Beth gives the eloquent answer of, “We fucked. That’s it.”

And to her, that is truly it. Yet, that knowledge doesn’t stop the memories from invading her mind while she pencils notes in her music book, cleans up her apartment, and goes about daily life. 

These thoughts filter through her mind as her fingers fly over the keys of the piano. Her mind can be across the world and her fingers will still know the sequence to this piece. Yet her thoughts aren’t safe across the world, instead they are annoyingly focused on a scrawny singer who is likely happy she snuck out before he could kick her out. 

She is glad that the latest song she composed slowly built to a furious speed. She needs to release the frustration that she has at the situation. A situation that she isn’t even supposed to think about as she runs through the keys. 

The final notes hang in the air and Beth takes this time to take a deep inhale. 

Music always has a way of making her feel alive. Her heart pounds, her breathing hitches and a sense of calm washes over her. Normally the sounds of the piano are the only thing to make her feel like this, yet she distinctly remembers feeling the same while listening to the lyrics of a particular cocky singer. 

Her phone lays beside her metronome and Beth doesn’t stop herself from hitting play on her music player app. 

The Fallen Kings' latest album fills the room. 

~

It is months before she next sees him.

Beth sits on a couch in Cleo’s apartment which she shares with multiple women. Again, she is dragged out of her hovel by the exuberant model into a party filled with members of the music, fashion and acting industry. 

After making her rounds, greeting those who knew her as the piano prodigy she was, Beth beelines for the secluded couch in the corner of the room determined to read the book she brought with her. 

Joke was on Cleo if she thought a party would stop her from studying for her concert scheduled for tomorrow evening. She becomes lost in the bars and sheets of music for an unknown amount of time, her mind playing each note as she reads. 

She goes to flip the page when her book is suddenly missing from her hands. Bewildered, she blinks several times at the empty space before she cranes her neck to look at the hand that dared to steal her book. 

Rings. She recognizes the rings immediately as they decorate the fingers grasping her now closed book. Beth follows the arm up to a familiar face and her lips automatically pucker in displeasure. 

Benny now wears a black cowboy hat with the brim so low that it covers most of his hair. Her fingers itch to take it off and run her hands through his locks. From her quick observation, she can see that not much else has changed about him as he still wore his signature necklaces and standard black everything. 

Her eyes finally lock onto his and Benny stares at her with what can only be described as amusement. 

“Why hello, Beth.” His voice is as deep as she remembers, and it sends a shiver up her spine instantaneously.

“Why hello, Benny.” She crosses her arms across her chest and sees Benny’s eyes flicker to her chest for a moment before returning to her eyes. “Give it back.”

She isn’t under any delusion that he will actually listen and is proven right when he instead reads the cover. 

“Decades Greatest Piano Concertos,” he drawls. “Seems fitting for the prodigy.” 

A single red eyebrow rises at that comment. She knows for a fact that he knew nothing of her status in the music community months ago when they first met. 

“Been doing your research, Watts?”

He answers her with a noncommittal shrug before holding the book out to her. As her hand reaches for it, Benny pulls it away and grasps her hand with his other hand. 

“Benny!” she shrieks in surprise, her breath hitching when she finally feels his touch again. 

“The twins and I are having shots at the bar in the other room. You should come.”

And because he hauls her up by her hand against her will or because she just can never say no to this man, she sighs and follows him.

~

They end up at her apartment that night and for once they make use of the bed instead of various surfaces. 

On second thought, she should have let the cab take them to his. It isn’t possible to sneak out of her own home. When she wakes up to an empty bed, she isn’t very surprised. Yet a sigh still escapes her lips as she pads around her room to toss on a silk robe. 

As she picks up discarded undergarments from the floor, she hears the strings of her piano echoing through the walls. 

Her eyes widen and her feet lead her to the living room where a half-naked man sits on her stool, fingers running expertly through the movements.

For more than two decades of her life, Beth has never experienced the skipping of the heart that so many write about in beautifully, nauseating romance novels. Not when she was overcome with emotion when her father walked out on his family, not when her mother died, not when she gained a sister in the orphanage and not when she was adopted by a wonderful single woman. 

But now it skips. It skips when she takes in Benny's eyebrows drawn together in concentration as he reads her piece and plays. The morning sun shines through her floor-to-ceiling windows and paints him in such a peaceful light. 

He spots her gawking at him and shoots her his signature smirk which she returns for once without any snark. As he continues to play, she patters closer to the piano and flips the page for him as he reaches the end of the bar. 

“You play very well,” she says when the final note rings.

Benny laughs and turns on the stool, so she is standing between his legs. He drags her closer by wrapping his arms around her waist and she goes willingly. 

“Not as good as you, but I make do.” There is a question in her eyes. He has never heard her play. He answers it next. “The internet is filled with your music.”

She doesn’t know what she intends to say when she opens her mouth, but what comes out is, “I have a concert tonight.”

Silence passes and she steels herself for a swift rejection of her veiled offer. He gazes into her eyes as if searching for something. Something that he must have found since he answers, “Got any tickets left? Could trade you a ticket to my next show? Backstage.”

Beth hums as she sits on his lap, her legs landing on either side of his hips. Underneath her, she feels a distinct bulge that is hardening by the second. Her lips brush against his.

“I’m sure that can be arranged.”

~

Her number is finally added to his phone. Or more like Benny adds his digits to hers and messages himself while she leaves her phone unattended in the changing room after her concert. 

He distracts her with a fury of kisses once he finds his way to the private room and she’s too worked up by her performance to stop him. He whispers how amazing she played and how beautiful she looked on stage between the kisses. It leads her to take extra long in front of the makeup mirror for touch-ups before she greets her fans. 

They text. They call. During the day. During the night. He initiates some conversations. She starts others.

They talk mostly about music. Songs that they are writing, concerts that they play. 

Occasionally other topics make it into the conversations. Information such as how the band started, how long she had been playing piano, where their families are from, what high schools they went to, why she continuously wears the same watch and why he never changes his necklaces. Other topics like that.

She should have been furious when she first found out how he invaded her privacy by using her phone, but she was too giddy over the nickname he made for himself. Piano man. 

On stage, he was a singer and occasionally seen strumming a guitar, but few knew about how he started in music because of the piano recitals his mother put him through as a child. 

Several times their flirting comments which border on obscene has her teasing him with vivid descriptions of how she touches herself to his voice over the phone. And other times she listens to his deep moans during late-night calls. 

She asks him one night when he calls after one of his recording sessions if he was supposed to be in some groupie’s bed instead of calling her. Benny remains quiet and so does she. It was always a waiting game.

“Are you inviting me over again, Beth?”

Instead of telling him she wasn’t a groupie, she replies, “No. What’s your address, Benny?”

~

While her apartment is soft tones, open concept, and views of the New York cityscape, his is cluttered with band paraphernalia, and while it is located many floors above the streets, had shades drawn so tight that no light makes it in. 

The place is clean and she knows at that moment that there must be a maid that comes ever so often because this man could barely fry a pan of eggs. 

She pays it all no mind since they spend very little time anywhere but the bed or she is often otherwise preoccupied. She was here for the man anyways. 

Benny is always awake before her. This time she hears him singing and sees him scribbling lyrics on a spare napkin on the other half of the bed when she opens her eyes. His eyebrows are drawn again as he tries to think up a final line to the chorus. 

She listens intently as he sings through the words again and when he becomes stuck on the words, Beth mumbles out a line to finish it for him as she yawns. 

The words are repeated back to her and a smile softens his previously scrunched face. He puts down the napkin on the side table and rolls on top of her.

“Fuck,” he says and there is reverence in his voice. “You’re perfect.”

To keep herself from bursting into flames from embarrassment, Beth convinces herself that he is talking about the song. Benny just got the pronouns wrong. 

~

People stop batting an eye when Beth shows up to more of Benny’s performances and practices, even when they are in other states. Benny is automatically added to her list of approved visitors at her apartment building and performances. 

Beth stops using Cleo as an excuse for appearing backstage at a rock concert that she normally wouldn’t be caught at when the model flies off to Paris for fashion week. Benny doesn’t deny or confirm that it is Beth’s fault there are scratches clawed into his back when the twins spot them one night and simply responds, “A red head’s fury.” 

That comment earns him the biggest eye roll she can muster but it doesn’t stop a deep flush from appearing on her cheeks at the not-at-all cryptic comment. 

The sinful, satisfied smirk on Benny’s face at her discomfort makes her want to pounce on him and make him grovel for completion. She just barely stops herself. 

At this point even the frequent groupies begin to recognize her face and send her glares which she blatantly ignores. 

She would be in the change room with the boys if all five of them didn’t strip in the same room. She didn’t care about male nudity, but she had a feeling the men were a bit more sensitive. 

When Benny and the others exit the room, they are immediately swallowed by the starstruck mob. It is a scene that she got used to over the months. 

One of the women dressed in teeny tiny jean shorts and the band’s shirt with clearly no bra under hugs Benny crushingly. When she peels herself from his body, the woman shoots Beth a smug look as her hand rests on Benny’s chest as if laying claim to him. Beth just smiles back. 

When her eyes flicker to Benny’s face, she sees his eyebrow raised in question. It is an expression that he unconsciously picked up from her. Like how she now taps her fingers against surfaces while thinking.

After the groupies leave, he makes his way over to her and the closer he gets, she sees more of the concern in his eyes. He wraps his arms around her waist regardless of them being in the presence of the other members and the crew. 

“You know you have nothing to be worried about, right? Even if you weren’t standing just feet away.” He was talking about the groupies, she knew. 

“Do I look worried?” Beth blinks innocently at him. 

He lets out a slight growl, antsy that she isn’t taking the conversation as seriously as him. “Beth.”

With a sigh, she puts a hand over his heart and feels it beat erratically under his skin. 

It has been nearly a year since they met that night. Over the months, they transitioned from periodically seeing each other a couple times a week to spending nearly all their time together. They choose to flip flop between their apartments, mostly staying at hers since it is harder to move a piano than a guitar. 

One would think after all that time, those three little words would have slipped past her lips or his, but it is clear that they are two of the most cautious people when it came to relationships. The talk of being exclusive isn’t something they had gotten around to having.

Since the day they had sex in her apartment, there wasn’t another that she slept with and oddly enough, she knew he hadn’t been with anyone either.

So that’s what trust feels like. 

A smile graces her face, and her eyes lock with Benny’s. 

“I know I have nothing to worry about. You don’t have anything to worry about either.” He gives her a wide grin and it’s one that makes him look like a cheeky child. 

Then she sees him noticeably flinch when he realizes that her other hand had wandered down his body to cup his manhood. 

“Not that you will, but if you ever feel the urge, just ask yourself if the groupies are worth losing me and -” 

Instead of finishing her sentence, she gives him a slight squeeze while smiling sweetly.

Benny gulps at the threat then lets out a laugh. He expects nothing less from her. 

~

The media has always been a staple in their lives, even long before they were together. 

The stories go from short blurbs at the back of gossip magazines when they first started seeing each other to front-page pictures of Benny on stage with Beth’s hair scarf wrapped around his upper arm while he belts out the lyrics they wrote together. A scarf that he stole from her after she used it to tie him to the bed frame one night. 

To reciprocate the theft, Beth unhooks one of his necklaces as he sleeps and begins using it as her bracelet. It doesn’t escape the media that Benny’s trademark necklaces decrease by one and Beth who normally never wears jewellery other than her watch suddenly gains another bracelet. She is photographed with said “bracelet” while walking down the street from their apartment wearing dark shades over her eyes and a summer dress. 

The media definitely explodes when their apartment is discovered. They had bought a penthouse suite together and sneakily began moving their individual belongings into the space to not bring attention to their official cohabitation. 

It was her piano that gave it away and made her doublethink why she had to be so proficient with the massive instrument instead of a flute. 

While Benny relishes the attention, he does miss the days when they were able to sneak around and the media focused strictly on their professional lives. 

Regardless of all the attention, the couple doesn’t pay the papers’ rumours and insinuations much mind instead opting to take their life together one day at a time. 

They pay their words no mind when they report on the massive diamond ring that suddenly appears on Beth’s left ring finger years later or when they report on their Central Park wedding. 

And not when they report on the much-anticipated delivery of their little bundle of joy.


End file.
